poetry by Aleata Blythe and Rita Joe

DURING READING:

From “The Ballad of Alice Moonchild
A poem by Aleata Blythe

They said, “This is better,
A home with whites.
They will give you
All the things you never had:
Butter on your bread,
Three square meals a day,
Clean clothes . . . schooling . . .
A warm room in which to stay.”
They scrub my face
(Trying to wash away the colour);
They cut my hair and curl it
(Trying to cover up the black);
They teach me to speak fluently
(Trying to erase the past).
But I laugh . . .
For I make them gasp
When I come upon them silently,
And I hear them curse
When I sing my songs in Cree.
Do they think I will forget
I will always be me?

“I Lost My Talk
A poem by Rita Joe

I lost my talk
The talk you took away.
When I was a little girl
At Shubenacadie school.

You snatched it away:
I speak like you
I think like you
I create like you
The scrambled ballad, about my world.

Two ways I talk
Both ways I say,
Your way is more powerful.

So gently I offer my hand and ask,
Let me find my talk
So I can teach you about me.